


Talk While I Listen

by LucindaAM



Series: Write For Me [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst if you squint?, F/M, Fluff, I did my best, I'm not an artist, Light Swearing, No Smut, Steve talks about art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26965987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucindaAM/pseuds/LucindaAM
Summary: You could talk about dinosaurs all day but Steve can talk about art all day. You love listening to him talk. He loves it when you listen.Based on the prompt: "I'm wondering if you can do a part where Steve geeks out. Just, loses himself talking about something he loves (maybe his motorcycle, some martial art...) and y/n just prompts and listens. I love listening to people I care about talk about things they enjoy."
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Write For Me [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997872
Comments: 21
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDia/gifts), [VickyBarnes92](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VickyBarnes92/gifts).



> Thanks LadyDia for the prompt! 
> 
> I hope I did it justice! :D

“I don’t know how you can do this.” You said, glancing over at the canvas Steve had propped up on the table. 

Steve chuckled. “What are you talking about doll?” 

You gestured at the painting. “How do you get the shadows to look like that?” You glanced over at your own sketchpad where you’d been trying and absolutely failing to capture the same image Steve was. The clear difference was Steve’s painting looked almost life-like it was so realistic while your drawing looked like someone had gotten angry and scribbled several parts out entirely. 

You made a face. 

Steve glanced at your drawing and laughed. “Do you want my help?” He asked. 

You nodded and immediately handed him your supplies. “Yes. A thousand times yes.” You begged. 

Steve laughed again as he took your supplies. He turned the paper over in your sketchbook and started walking you through the process. “The thing about art is that at its heart, it’s simple.” He drew a few circles and lines. “Everything has a basic shape. Circle, square, triangle, oval. It doesn’t matter which. If you can spot the shape, you can grow it into something more.” 

You watched in fascination as connected the seemingly random circles and lines until a rough human body could be seen. “All you have to do is add the tiny details. Find the parts of the image that stand out as unique to you.” He added the rough outline of ears and eyes to the sketch, his pencil flowing almost effortlessly across the page. 

“Art is a little like I was suppose.” He continued as he added a nose and a mouth. “Nothing exciting to look at underneath but add the details and it becomes something else entirely.” He added muscle mass to the drawing, shaping arms and legs. 

“And the shadows?” You prompted, glancing enviously at Steve’s painting. 

Steve smiled. “Nothing in life is black and white. Including shadows. Shadows are in the background, not meant to be seen unless you’re looking for them.” He said, lightly taking the pencil as he shaded areas carefully. “You have to be careful as you’re shading. Some places will need more and some will need to have less. You need to know, in your mind’s eye were the light is coming from. Keeping your shadows consistent.” He reached down and brushed his finger across the page, blending the light pencil markings into the paper. 

“What about the eyes?” 

“What about them?” 

You shrugged. “Why do yours look so . . . soulful?” You asked pointing at his painting. 

Steve shrugged. “I’m just replicating what I’ve seen before.” He said. 

You scoffed. “That’s all you got, oh wise master-of-the-arts?” You teased. 

Steve grinned. “Do you want to try it on your own?” He asked, holding your sketchbook back out to you. 

“No! No! I’m sorry!” You cried, pushing it back towards him. 

He laughed and took it back as he started coloring the eyes. “The eyes are windows to the soul in life and in art. You play with light and reflection as you paint. Changing the eyebrows, pinching the eyes . . . these can all change emotion you’re trying to convey. It takes an entire face to make an expression.” 

You glanced at Steve and the way his entire face was screwed up in concentration as he worked on the eyes. A swell of love rushed through you despite the frustration you’d felt earlier. You weren’t an artist by any means and you sincerely doubted that you ever would be one. But you could sit here and listen to Steve talk about art forever. 

“I love you.” You murmured. 

Steve glanced up and smiled at you softly. “I love you too.” He echoed. 

Steve turned back to the drawing and finished shading in the eyes before he handed the sketchbook back to you. “Now it just needs your signature.” He said. 

You smiled as you took the sketchbook in your hands and the pencil he offered back to you. “Thank you.” 

Steve shrugged and blushed as he turned back to his painting. You turned to the sketch in your hands and tried to keep Steve’s lesson’s in mind as you carefully sketched a supervillian’s long curling mustache and a unibrow to the sketch Steve had started for you. You smiled gleefully as you copied Steve’s gentle pencil strokes across the paper. 

You finished and pulled back to look at your completed artwork. You wiped an imaginary tear away from your eye and turned it around to show Steve. 

“How’d I do?” You asked. 

Steve glanced at your picture and did a double take, his paint brush slipping from his fingers and splattering on the table. 

“You didn’t.” He choked out. 

You blew a chef’s kiss into the air. “It’s tres magnifique! Don’t you think? I should send a copy to the Louvre.” 

Steve shook his head and smiled. “He’s going to kill you.” 

You ignored him as you leaned down and kissed the drawing. Your lips were stained with graphite when you pulled away and there was a definite smudge where there hadn’t been one before, but you didn’t care. “Oh, you’re going on the FRIDGE, baby.” 

Steve chuckled. You pushed to your feet and pressed your stained lips to his cheek, leaving a graphite colored pair of lips on his skin before you turned and raced out of the room. “I need to go make a ton of copies!” You shouted. 

Steve shook his head, smiled, and turned back to his painting. 

It was well after midnight when Tony finally pulled himself out of the lab for a midnight snack. The lights flickered on as he entered the kitchen and he almost passed the fridge before something caught his eye. There, stuck to the fridge like a damn A+ report card, was a picture of HIM with a cartoonishly huge mustache and unibrow. 

Tony glanced at the flourished signature underneath and growled your name. He reached up to yank the picture off the fridge but it wouldn’t budge. 

“JARVIS?” He growled. 

“I’m afraid she used some of Mr. Parker’s web fluid to stick it to the refrigerator. It’s stuck there for the next few hour sir.” He said. 

Tony took a deep breath. 

“You know what this means, right?” He asked. 

“I’m afraid I don’t, sir.” 

“It means war.” Tony said darkly, planting his hands against the counter. 

JARVIS sighed. “Oh good. Shall I rise the troops now?” 

Tony shook his head. “No. We’ll let them think they’ve gotten away with this. But mark my words, J. We’ll get them back for this.” 

JARVIS sighed again. 

Tony ignored him as he grabbed his snack and snuck back down to the labs. It was time to plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony getting back at reader.
> 
> The sequel VickyBarnes92 requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the idea! I CACKLED.

Your eyes flickered around the room frantically. You just needed to steal Falcon’s wings and you were home free. You could do this. You could . . .

“Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down . . .” The lyrics were quiet, and you weren’t sure if they were just in your head or if you could hear them coming over the PA system. You couldn’t tell anymore. You felt like you were losing your damn mind. You held your hands up to your head and screamed.

You lunged for Sam’s EXO-7 and quickly did the straps up before you opened the window next to you and threw yourself out of it.

Meanwhile, Steve heard screaming outside and rushed to the window just in time to see your body shoot past. “Doll?!” He screamed.

He threw his own window open and glanced down at the pavement, terrified he was about to see your body splattered against the ground.

His heart only just started beating in his chest again as Sam’s wings extended out behind you and you soared off into the sky.

Tony walked into the room behind him, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “She finally cracked, huh? I’ll give her this – held out longer than expected.”

Steve turned slowly, very slowly, to Tony. “What did you do?” He growled.

Tony smirked as he sipped his drink. “I Rick Rolled her into insanity. Took days, Rogers. DAYS.”

Steve stepped closer. “What’s ‘Rick Rolling’?” He demanded trying to figure out just how hard he was going to have to beat Tony into the ground.

Tony glanced at him, an evil smirk lighting up his face. “Oh. Cap’. I’m so glad you asked.”


End file.
